Power paves from cave to grave
Man has paddled to the powerful and strong,
Worshipping what would not to his wish wield,
Commanding weak-kneed, committing all wrong,
E'er since the days of caves and battlefield,
Power from the days of cave, power to the grave,
Power in the name of principles to save.
He that rises to heights of stratosphere,
He that holds power to heart's near and dear,
Afraid of honest peer, always in fear
Of losing power, scared that law may interfere,
Afraid, flow of power may interrupt,
To him does power conspire to corrupt.
And today stray caps in sarkari house,
Looking holy in chair, or harmless cows,
The polling polls once return them to rule,
Turn in to bull as crown's precious jewel,
The powerhouse ready power to disburse,
To nurse cronies from people's tax-paid purse.
Each power cap, a poisonous creature,
Each having an exaggerated view
Of his cap, that evaporates not unlike dew,
But grasping-to-the-grave as its feature,
Crying out still like starving babes— ‘give, give',
Like hungry maw it knows but to receive.
But we that glibly put power to hell-hands—
Hands alas of a power-hungry tyrant,
Ne'er once cavil that they've turned faceless friends
To people, nor are fair to trust ere lent,
Nor wonder why their face is now turned ‘way,
The face that had begged and beseeched one day.
We that should know well democracy's staple:
Unbridled power we aught abolish;
In practice yet, we push up our own people,
So, long as power prevails, rulers and ruled
Shall ever be, so be the shahs, slavish,
Our own tools exploiting O the exploited fools!
We too know well: power roots down from the mind,
Rooting humane, gentle virtue, scarce vice,
Greater the power, greater the grab we find;
The voter scarce bewares; power, a loaded dice,
Fails, as a diamond should dazzle, to strike
Beholders no less than holders alike!
Dignifying the meanest of the means,
[...] Read more
poem by Aniruddha Pathak
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